Stubble Makes Amaya Dramatic I Guess
by SenpaiBuckwheat
Summary: Admit it - we all have a thing for Gren's stubble. Even though it sounds like Amaya's joking when she says it, she actually is being truthful. Romantic elements and slight angst.


**A/N: It's been way too long since I published something and being creative feels soooo good. Amaya's a little OOC in this one?**

* * *

Amaya had noticed his morning stubble before, often, in fact. He usually shaved after eating breakfast, so she wasn't used to seeing it as long as it had gotten after rescuing him from the dungeon. It made him look exhausted, and he was, after going days without proper meals, showers, sleep. His wrists were still red and tender from the chains digging into his skin. What Amaya wouldn't give to relieve herself of her rank to give Lord Viren a few pieces of her mind via fists. Her blood boiled at the thought of Gren maintaining a cheery disposition despite his hopelessness. How horribly unfair.

This morning he was very fuzzy after close to a week of not shaving. His beard was darker than his hair colour – it matched his eyebrows. He must've noticed her staring at him from across the breakfast table. _Why are you staring at me_? He shoved a big bite of sausage past his lips.

_You look handsome with a beard and mustache_. She said without hesitancy, used to being blunt. She wasn't joking, he really did look handsome, he looked older too. His jaw was more defined and he appeared broader, but maybe it was just Amaya's imagination.

Her friend's face flushed a deep red, a colour that rivaled his hair, and he choked on his mouthful of sausage, pounding on his chest. He'd be fine. _I really need to shave_, he fumbled, dropping both his fork and knife onto the floor as he shakily signed to her. Gren hacked a few more times before bending down to pick up his utensils.

Seeing him so flustered made her grin. She liked teasing him like this even though she was completely serious with what she said. _It's okay, if you keep your facial hair like this for a little while and maybe you'll have all the women swooning over you_. Heaven knows _she_ was certainly swooning over him.

Gren's glass of milk spilled onto his plate as he flapped his arms and attempted to hide his reddening face. _Stop teasing me_!

Still smiling, Amaya stood from the table to drop off her plate and utensils at the dish pit of the soldiers' mess hall. Gren followed behind her after sopping up the milky mess on the table with a few napkins. _I'm going to my room before training. I'll see you later_, he said to her, and they parted ways. He was stroking his stubble as he left, looking rattled.

If there weren't other people around, Amaya would've skipped to her room. Interacting with Gren always brightened her day, especially after not having seen him for weeks. She was on withdrawal. Her thoughts drifted to the way his fingers brushed his facial hair as they went their separate directions. He wasn't planning on shaving, was he?

Agitated, the general did a one-eighty, stomping in the direction of his quarters. She was at his door in a flash, pounding on the wood with her fist before swinging it open herself. If he was already holding the blade to his jaw she wasn't going to wait for him to answer the door himself.

Sure enough, Gren's eyes were open wide in shock as he stood in front of the mirror, shaving cream lathered on the bottom half of his face. _Amaya_—

She felt like a mother, poised with fists on her hips and her chin angrily cocked to one side. _Were you going to shave_?

He rolled his eyes and nodded. _I just don't feel comfortable with facial hair. _Amaya wanted to pressure him out of it, she knew she probably could, but was it worth making him uncomfortable for her own viewing pleasure? Definitely not. _Besides, _he continued, _it reminds me of_… he paused and Amaya knew.

She softened. _I'm sorry. Here, let me help you_. Gren was about to protest as Amaya approached him, but she put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him into the wooden chair at his desk. He looked startled, but Amaya explained. _You tend to miss some spots under your chin_. She draped a towel around his shoulders.

He was still holding the razor, but Amaya wriggled it out of his grasp, twirling it through her fingers before she gripped his jaw and turned his face to the side. Even through the cream she could see the sharp line of his jaw, the strength in his freckled cheekbones. Maybe this was a bad idea. Gren was watching her, and normally she wouldn't be unnerved, but this seemed to heighten her awareness of the proximity they were sharing. The soft morning sunlight making his face glow, the room smelling faintly of sleep and rumpled sheets. _Focus, Amaya_, she thought.

She lightly dragged the razor across his cheekbone that had turned pink for some reason. Why was he so flushed? Shouldn't she be the one who's reddening? Before she could overanalyze the situation, she continued to shave his handsome face, trying to ignore the burning in her fingertips as she turned his head this way and that. She got lost in the rhythm of wiping the cream on his towel and making sure she shaved every hair – for his sake. She didn't notice how close she was leaning into him, but Gren sure did, leg bouncing nervously when she focused so intently on his skin.

_Up close_, she said, _you have an awful lot of freckles_. He did, and she suddenly wanted to take the time to count every single one. She let the pads of her fingers brush a few.

"Amaya," he said, and she saw how close his mouth was to her. How she was practically leaning over his lap. Her hands rested on his shoulders and she took the towel, wiping the cream residue from his cheeks. Gren's warm hands rested over her wrists. "Amaya." He said again.

He was looking at her, into her eyes.

He always had been handsome, Amaya realized, even when he first came to train as a soldier when he was just a teenager, scrawny and lanky. Horribly clumsy and bashful. Gren was a grown man now, not only in physique, but he'd matured with experiences on the battlefield, in training, and under Viren's manipulative power.

She ran her fingertips across his face, feeling for any traces of stubble. Amaya skimmed the top of his lips, then the bottom. Was there something there?

"Amaya," Gren said, and he held her hand in his. The commander was looking at her with seriousness etched into his eyebrows, but a pink flush still climbed his cheeks. He moved her hand to cup his jaw.

Her fingers tingled with the feeling of his burning skin on hers. How often had she wanted to allow herself to hold him like this? She didn't think she had dreamed of a moment like this ever in her life, but the pounding of her heart told her otherwise. _Are you okay_? She asked, heart soft for him as she twisted a strand of hair at the back of his neck around her fingers.

_I'm okay. I missed you_.

_I missed you too. _Amaya watched Gren's tongue dart out to moisten his lips.

Time slowed, but Amaya's heartbeat sure didn't. In all her years of training and discipline, she'd never been prepared for moments like these that she shared with Gren. Bodies inching closer, pupils dilating. She felt his breath on her mouth, saw his freckles in detail, how some blended into his skin tone and how others were so prominent. She focused on the freckles on his eyelids, the ones under his nose.

_I'm gonna do it_, she thought to herself. _I'm going in_.

Their trance was broken when Gren sharply turned his face towards the door. Someone must've knocked, because Gren stood, pushing past her to turn the doorknob. A lower-ranked soldier bowed at his and Amaya's presence. It was no secret that the general and commander were friends, but Amaya felt as if she'd been caught in the act and was guilty. Nothing happened, she had nothing to be guilty about.

Gren dismissed the soldier after a short conversation and turned back to her. The towel was still draped over his shoulders, and his flush hadn't lessened. _They need me in the weaponry_, he said. Amaya's heart sunk.

_Of course_, she nodded to him, steeling herself to become the strong general again. With that, Gren excused himself from his own room, and Amaya was left with her thoughts, which she shoved away. She didn't have time or energy to analyze the situation. It was just yet another encounter with her commander that made her confused.

She set his razor on his desk, along with the towel Gren had absent-mindedly tossed onto his bed before he exited the room.

Amaya grew angry at the sight of herself in the looking glass. She looked helplessly in love, young, and naïve. She had gotten too hopeful over the way he blushed easily and the intimacy of his room.

_Pull yourself together,_ she said to her reflection. _Way to get so dramatic over some stubble_.

* * *

**A/N: Don't get excited or anything, but **_maybe _**expect a chaptered Gremaya fic sometime soon?**


End file.
